


Embrace

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Judy Needs A Hug, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judith learns through experience—and lives through touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

Dad spends more time hunched over the desk in his study than he ever does with Judith, and for the most part, she makes do. She’s only six and she doesn’t really understand what “blastia research” is but she knows it’s important, so she tries her best not to bother him when he’s working. Judith cooks for him, too, because it’s not like she has anything better to do all day, and when she rushes into his study to shove the tray of food at him, the way Dad accepts it with a smile and then pats her head before she leaves is usually enough to make her feel it’s all worth it.

But sometimes, Judith gets fed up. Sometimes, Judith realizes on the nights when it gets too silent and her imagination isn’t working that trying to read books she can’t actually understand and playing with blocks all by herself is very, very lonely. Sometimes, like tonight, Judith becomes so restless that she throws herself into stirring stews and baking dishes that are more elaborate than usual, because cooking meals for Dad never fails to soothe her solitude.

Because she and Dad are the only family each other has so they _need_ to spend time together.

If achieving that means that Judith has to burst in on him in the middle of his work and pound her tiny fists against his legs to get his attention, so be it. If that makes Dad groan aloud and then stand up from his chair until he’s towering over her with a stern look on his face, so be it.

And if Dad suddenly grins and cries “Come here, you little—!” before he grabs her by her sides, lifting Judith up into the air and spinning her around and around until she’s dizzy from thrill and squealing with laughter, well…

That’s about as good as it can get.

Judith is still giggling when Dad finally sits down again, plopping her into his lap on the way, but then she remembers why she came here in the first place and puts on the sternest face she can. Just for good measure, she slams her fist into his chest too.

“I made dinner and you’re gonna eat it with me!” It’s an order, not a suggestion, and Judith levels her harshest glare at him so that he knows she _will not_ be taking no for an answer.

Hermes sighs in defeat.

“Alright, alright, you win,” he concedes, and kisses her forehead as Judith swells with triumph. She throws her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as her small arms are able, and when his own arms squeeze around her body gently, his large arms encompassing her entirely, Judith hums in satisfaction.

Dad isn’t always there for her—but when he is, he’s warm.

* * *

In Myorzo, nobody talks to her. Nobody dares to talk to the girl who first came into the city on the back of a flying creature when she was nine, covered in blood that wasn’t her own and staring at everything with the deadest eyes they’d ever seen. It’s partly her own fault, too, for refusing to talk to anyone herself, but Judith doesn’t want to speak to strangers with her mouth when she can just tell everything to Ba’ul without ever saying a word, when her mental link with him is safe and secure and can’t hurt her any more than she already has been.

Nobody talks to her but they talk _about_ her, frequent whispers amongst themselves as if they don’t think she can hear them, or simply don’t care if she does. _Mute,_ Judith hears them throw around a lot, and it isn’t until she’s eleven and wakes up with blood soaking through her pants that she finally proves them wrong, yelling desperately at a passerby to “Help me! Help me please _I’m gonna die_ —!”

Judith still doesn’t really understand “periods” after they explain it to her, but once she realizes she’s not actually dying, she doesn’t ask any questions.

Her stomach hurts the rest of the day and when night falls on the city, Judith ignores the Elder’s offer to let her use one of the cold beds in the empty house, instead trudging off to sleep outside with Ba’ul like usual. Maybe it’s because she’s already in pain, or maybe the sight of blood just brought up bad memories, but whatever the reason, when Judith curls up against Ba’ul and closes her eyes, familiar flashbacks play all too clearly in her head and she can’t sleep.

The war took Temza from her. Worst of all, it took _Dad_ from her.

…Dad used to take care of her, when she got hurt. Judith got hurt a lot, actually—she’d scrape her knee while out climbing the mountain, or nick herself with the knife while cooking dinner, or maybe even burn herself while boiling soup. And Dad would drop everything to treat it for her, pulling out herbs and bandages, leaving kisses to booboos, and holding her in his arms until all the pain just washed away.

Now Judith wants a hug like that, _needs_ a hug like that, but Dad’s arms are only a phantom memory that she can never feel again. Ba’ul is all she has and he can’t help what he is, can’t help that he has fin-like wings instead of arms, because Judith knows that if he could, Ba’ul would sweep her up and hug her tight with all he had. But as is, he can’t embrace her without probably hurting one or both of them in the process.

So Ba’ul does the best he can to comfort her in all the other ways. He offers her his fur, lets her _bury_ herself into the soft fuzzy warmth that runs along his back, and Judith closes her eyes to focus on the calming sound of his breathing. Ba’ul sends her sensations, too—assurance, and condolence, and so much sheer _love_ —and with all that input flooding her mind, Judith can almost forget the awful cramping in her stomach. And she can almost forget the memories of two years ago: the sight of destruction, and the smell of burning flesh, and the feel of someone else’s blood spraying over her, sticky and wet and sickeningly warm…

Judith shakes her head. No, she can never truly forget that day, and although Ba’ul can give her relief on the mental front, they both know he can’t help her on the physical. Even so, she clutches onto Ba’ul’s fur with all she has, and for each wave of compassion he sends her way, she answers him with appreciation and love and fervent telepathic _thank you_ s.

This isn’t enough, and it may _never_ be enough, but she’ll just have to make do.

* * *

Judith hasn’t even been amongst the humans for a month yet when she’s first propositioned, when some guy catches her staking out a shop while she’s broke and contemplating theft. He promises he’ll pay her as long as she gives him “a good time,” and Judith doesn’t really understand what he means at first—nobody taught her about periods before she freaked out upon getting her own and nobody taught her about _this_ either—but she’s fifteen and already incredibly curvy and she’d be an idiot not to notice how humans always seem to stare at her wherever she goes.

She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into but she’s too desperate to turn him away, and that first time, Judith lets the customer do all the work. It’s not particularly pleasant, the way he strips her down while practically drooling, and when he thrusts into her it actually hurts like _hell_ , but Ba’ul helps her through it. His presence on her conscious is alleviating, and dulls the pain enough so that Judith doesn’t scream—until midway through, when she realizes that her screams are exactly what this guy _wants_ to hear.

Afterwards, for whatever reason, the man apparently assumes she enjoyed it as much as he did, pushing his lips up against hers in goodbye before he hands her the money. Judith is only barely is able to keep herself from breaking into a run as she leaves, but the gald’s enough to keep her well fed for the next two days, and in the end, that makes it all worth it.

And in the end, Judith has to find herself more customers.

She could never hope to understand why so many men are willing to pay so much for sex, but she doesn’t question it so much as she simply takes advantage of it. Judith calculates the sway of her hips and the boldness of her outfits, and pulls the “exotic beauty” card at every opportunity because men pay big money just to get some with a busty Krityan girl. It’s not a sidejob she’s proud of, but it’s not like there are many other work options when you’re constantly hopping around the world in an effort to destroy all the scattered pieces of your father’s mistake, and as much as Judith would vastly prefer just hunting her own food, she can’t survive for long on only low-level monster meat.

Besides, except for fighting, acting is the only other thing she’s good at, because the connection between the muscles in her face and her true feelings has deteriorated greatly since the war stole everything from her. So in bed, hiding her distaste behind a mask is easy, and Judith slides smoothly into the pretense of pleasure, throwing her head back and moaning aloud lewdly, as if whatever her client is doing actually makes her feel something, _anything_.

Judith fakes her orgasm, then, and lies through her teeth that he was good, so damn good, oh just _amazing_ , because the male ego is fueled by praise and this particular customer is desperate enough to believe anything she says. She tries to ignore the feel of slime on her skin as he pulls out, and then brushes her bangs aside, and then leans in to plant a sloppy kiss to her lips as he slides his arms around her waist. Internally, Judith groans—this one is the clingy type, evidently, because his arms are holding her to his chest as if he believes she’ll run away if he doesn’t keep her there.

Honestly, he’s right on that front.

So Judith closes her eyes and reaches her mind out to Ba’ul, talks with him until she can pretend there’s nobody else lying beside her, and wonders why, as a sad little girl growing up in Myorzo, she actually used to _long_ for someone to put their arms around her.

* * *

Judith almost doesn’t notice the touches at first.

They start out so naturally, after all—as someone’s hand grabbing her arm to yank her out of the way of an enemy strike, or as pats to her back when she chokes from someone dumping a life bottle down her throat, or as hi-fives and fist bumps exchanged with the team to celebrate their victory after battle. Soon, though, they expand beyond the battlefield without Judith even really realizing it, because it’s only ever perfectly casual when Karol puts his hand in hers so that they don’t lose each other in crowds, or Estelle pulls Judith aside before bed on nights when the princess feels like treating someone to a massage, or Yuri nudges her shoulder with his when he emerges from his tent in the middle of the night to take over her watch shift, or Rita wordlessly reaches out to squeeze her arm whenever she wants to discreetly ask Judith to help her cook dinner.

Though, Judith doesn’t actually let Raven touch her. But only because he’s just so _eager_ to do so that teasing him proves much more fun.

But by the time she notices the abundance of physical contact within the group, Judith is too deeply embedded in it herself to see it as anything other than normal. And when the Adephagos disintegrates, she doesn’t hesitate to run after the others on the top of Tarqaron, speeding and skidding and eventually kneeling down so that her arms can join all the others where they’ve wrapped themselves around Yuri. Squished in the middle, the man himself lets out a joyous whoop of victory, a contagious sound that soon multiplies around Judith like firecrackers popping one by one, bellowing from all her friends’ relieved chests, until she eagerly joins them too.

The dogpile they’ve made of themselves shifts when Yuri slips out, grabbing Estelle by her shoulders and reeling her in until he’s clutching her to his chest, and from there, it’s all a rush, everyone moving this way and that, gliding around and into each other. Small arms—Karol’s—briefly squeeze her waist before they retreat, and then Estelle’s draping all over her neck while Judith’s own seeking arms tuck around a teary-eyed Rita, and after Judith’s hug with Repede ends with him licking her face and dashing out of her grip, someone suddenly lifts her up off her feet, making Judith yelp in surprise, but she doesn’t even try to stop Raven as he spins her around and around, until the world is a blur and the laughter that has been bubbling up in her throat finally erupts, so loud and elated and _free_ that she almost feels like she’s six again.

Only she’s not six, and she’s not a sad little girl or even a sad young adult anymore. She’s nineteen, and she’s grown up more on this journey than she ever would have thought possible, and the world they just saved now seems brighter than ever.

So when her feet hit the ground again, Judith launches herself back into the chaotic crowd of shared elation to grab someone, _any one_ of these people who taught her how to live again, and yank them in for another hug.


End file.
